"This is stupid," I muttered under my breath as I drove through the streets of Forks, Washington. It was raining of course, and with a smaller car, it might have been difficult to maneuver my big horse trailer down the slippery roads of Forks. But my brand new, oversized, red Ford pickup hadn't let me down so far, and we had driven all the way from Phoenix. I had started to love this car. Though, why did it have to be in such a noticeable color? Hot red, really?

The question was easily answered by two simple words: Swan International. The billion-dollar company my dad owned. The words: "Swan International Stables" was written on the side of my pickup and trailer, a white swan under the text. I hate it all, the company, the logo, the money and my father.

My mother, Renée Swan, died shortly after I was born after a dramatic C-section. The last thing she said before she died was that she wanted my name to be Isabella. Before that, my father was just a normal office guy, working with computers, and we were all living in a little house in Forks. But when my mother died, my dad and I left Forks and all the bad memories, and we settled in Phoenix. My dad started working for a computer company, working like he was possessed, trying to forget that his wife was dead.

In only a year he was head of the software department, and after another year, he had written a completely new computer software, which he named Swan. It was the most brilliant and innovative computer software the world had ever seen. So he was quickly made head of the whole company, and he renamed it to Swan International. I was only three years old when my father became a world known millionaire.

Swan International grew. It wasn't just computers anymore; it was mp3-players, cell phones and TVs. The year I turned five, Swan International also became a watch and jewelry company, a makeup brand and an airplane company. Form my six birthday, the only thing I wanted was a pony, and my father to be there. When I woke up on the big day, I found an e-mail from my dad in China, apologizing for not being able to make it to my birthday, but to make it up to me he had bought me a stable with twenty horses and ponies, all top show jumping and dressage horses. It was named Swan International Stables, SIS for shortening.

I almost never saw my dad through my childhood. I was raised by nannies, and I was sent to the best schools. I had all the best opportunities to one day become something great, like my dad. I had all the money in the world and I was incredibly smart, both gifts from Charlie.

But I hated my life. I hated my oversized house, the nannies and the servants. My dad was never home, and when he was, he didn't care about me. At an age of ten, I started disliking my dad. He now owned a billion dollar company; he didn't care about me at all. I didn't have any friends ether, I felt like everyone were just using me. No one cared about me as a person; they just wanted to be able to call themselves friends of Isabella Swan, the daughter of the big Charlie Swan.

My stable became my sanctuary. I spent every spear minute riding my horses. They were all mine, but in the beginning, I could only ride small ponies. The best riding instructors in the world trained me, and I loved it. Riding and horses soon became my whole life, and the stable was my true home. All the best show jumping riders wanted to be stabled at the SIS, and it became one of the biggest and best show jumping stables in the US.

From the day I was six, I rode at least two horses a day. My instructors early told me I got talent, but I didn't believe them, I just had fun. As the years went, I road more horses, and I started to compete. I won. A lot. Isabella Swan became a known name in the horse world, and when I was 16 years old, I sold eighteen of my horses, kept one horse, King Caspian, and one pony, Chess, and had no doubt in my whole body what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be a professional show jumping rider.

But my dad didn't like that at all. "Bells, you are being silly. You are not going to become some ordinary horse girl. You are my daughter, you are Bella Swan," my dad had said over the phone when I told him.

"But dad, this is what I want to do! I'm good at it!" I said, glad we were talking over the phone, so he couldn't see the tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm sorry honey, but I have to go now, but we'll talk later, OK? Good." Click.

In that moment, I knew that my father didn't give a crap about me. I didn't hear from him in two month, and when he finally called, it was to tell me that he was going to Australia and not coming back in a long time. I was crushed.

During the next year, Charlie stopped being my father, I never heard from him. I intensified my work at school, and finished high school with a perfect GPA, 5.0. Charlie even forgot my graduation, not that I was surprised. I didn't apply for college, I spent every day after my graduation at my stable, training horses, my own and others. I bought myself a car, a blue dodge viper, and a green ATV (a 4 wheeler). Life seemed to work itself out, right?

Wrong. I had reached my breaking point. I almost stopped eating, and I started to drink a lot, all alone in my big house.

I loved riding and working with horses. That was all I was doing now a days, so I should be happy, right? But in the evenings, after a drink or two, I was so depressed I didn't know what to do. I missed my mother so much, and Charlie. I had never known her, and Charlie refused to talk about her. I just wanted Charlie to come home, be my father again, like he was when I was very young. I could hardly remember it, but I still had an image of him on my 4th birthday, him and me in Disneyland together, having so much fun.

I just wanted him to love me, to be proud of me. But I wasn't good enough for him. So one night, after too much to drink, I wrote Charlie a letter, apologizing for being such a disappointment. Then, at the age of 18, I did something really stupid. I went to the ridiculously big kitchen and found a sharp kitchen knife. It still scares me that I actually did what I did that night. I can still remember the feeling of the cold steel on my skin near my wrist, slicing into the thin skin from my wrist to the inside of my elbow. I'd never could handle the look or the smell of blood, so as soon as the blood started to run down my hand, and I smelled the rusty smell of it, I passed out.

I didn't die, obviously. I woke up at the hospital two days later, to find Charlie in a chair next to my bed, saying he was so sorry, that he was going to make it up to me and be my father again. That he was going to support me, no matter what I did with my life. The doctors said it would be good for me to get out of Phoenix, somewhere quiet and calming.

So here I was, in the town where Charlie had met my mom, where everything had started. Charlie had bought a farm in the outskirt of town, and he had given me the money to rebuild it and fulfill my dream. His only condition was that it was going to be a SIS stable, and therefore have the same colors as the main sable at everything. Hot red…

It was now six month since my "accident", and I had spent the time in therapy. SIS Forks was finished and ready with room enough for 10 horses. It wasn't a big stable, but big enough for me, my horses, three stable hands, show riders and their horses.

I sat in my giant pickup, trying to find my way to the stable, my stable. I had my two horses and my beloved ATV in the horse trailer, and Caspian was starting to get tired of standing in a stupid metal box. I could hear him impatiently kicking the wall of the trailer.

"I know, I know. Clam down boy," I murmured to him, though I knew he couldn't hear me. It was ten I the evening, so all shops were closed, and it was dark. I stroke the scar on my left wrist absentminded, a habit I had adopted while the stitches grew. The scar would never fade away; it would always be a reminder. I wore a scarf or something around my wrist in public so to not pull attention to it.

Suddenly, I saw I sing that said "Forks High School". Ok, so now I knew I was totally lost. I drove into the parking lot and turned off the engine. The sudden silence was a bit scary. But I had to check on Caspian and Chess, so I opened the car door to get out into the pouring rain. I've always been a bit clumsy, and I miss judged the gap between my pickup and the ground. It was like when you miss a step while walking down the stairs, that odd feeling of dread and wonder before impact. I could feel my whole spine jolt when my feet hit the ground.

"Damn it," I swore, a little louder than I had intended. Not that it mattered, the whole aria was deserted. The cold rain already had me soaking wet, so I ran to the side door of the trailer and slammed the door open. Caspian was standing right in front of me, looking mildly irritated. Chess didn't care; he was a solid pony that was happy as long as he had enough hay.

"Hello boy, easy, we'll be at your new home soon," I told him, trying to make my voice soothing. "I hope."

I drove around some more, and then I finally found the road leading out of town, on to a smaller road surrounded by trees. "Yes!" I shouted. I almost jumped in my seat. In about 30 minutes, I would see my new home for the first time. The home I had created!

Then, out of nowhere, a small, silver car shot past me! I almost jumped out of my skin and drove into the dark wall of trees. I barely managed to stop my pickup before I lost control. My hands were shaking and I could feel my heart almost beating out of my chest. What the hell!

The silver car had stopped a few meters in front of me. It was a Volvo. "Stupid, shiny Volvo owner!" The words were hissed out through my teeth. I could hear Caspian and Chess whine in protest back in the horse trailer. Oh no. Panic wiped out all other feelings. What if something had happened to them? I felt a chill go down my spine. The ATV, maybe it had slid into Chess!

I jumped out of the car, running to the back of the trailer. I couldn't get to Chess through the side door. I didn't care about the rain anymore; I just fumbled with the bolt at the main door, tore it open and jumped in.

"Chess?!"

It was like someone had put a warm blanked over my shoulders. My lime green speed ATV was still in its place and Chess was safe.

"Excuse me, are you all right?" The voice was the most beautiful, velvet voice I had ever heard. I bet it was the man in the Volvo. I turned around, ready to tell him where he could put his stupid, shiny Volvo.

"What were you thinking, driving in front of a horse trailer that way, in THAT speed? You could have killed my horses!" I screamed at the stranger. I couldn't see him well in the dim light of the horse trailer, but he looked to be not much older than me. Leather jacked, tall and with messy, bronze hair. If I had been a normal girl, I might have fallen speechless by his handsome features, but boys that thought they were handsome and worth my time had hung around me since I hit puberty. They didn't face me.

He didn't answer, just stood there in the opening of the trailer. His eyes filled with something I couldn't understand. Anger? He had NO right to be angry with ME! I had done nothing wrong, and he had almost killed my horse, driving like a maniac.

I was irritated by the tears that were forming in my eyes; I always started to cry when I was mad. And I was really mad. I loved to drive fast myself, but I was careful not to become a danger to other people or animals.

It was like the boy couldn't hear me. He just stood there, staring. Was he mental or something? He started to really annoy me, and scare me a tiny bit too.

"What, you're not going to say anything? Apologize, anything?"

He shock his head slightly, hair falling into his eyes so he had to run his fingers through it to get a clear view. When I could see his eyes again, they weren't angry anymore. Just resigned.

"Of course. I am so sorry, I…" Suddenly, I just didn't want to hear it. I was so sick of excuses. Charlie had had a lot of them through the years, and especially the last six months.

"Just get the hell out of here, leave." He stared at me, confused and hurt, and I could se he wanted to say something.

"Save it asshole, just get out the hell out of my face!" Deciding he didn't want to be so close to a crying, screaming maniac, he was out of my trailer before I had finished my sentence, and I could hear his car start up and drive away just seconds later.

I was so angry, I was shaking. "I hope he drives into a tree," I mumbled to myself as I closed door to the horse trailer and walked slowly through the rain, back to the pickup. The horses hadn't taken any damage and were levelheaded enough to not care about me screaming. Now, I just wanted to get to my new home.

"Miss. Swan, welcome to your new home." A girl no older than me met me when I had parked my pickup, holding a huge umbrella, thank god! The girl had brown hair, pulled up in a tight ponytail. "My name is Jessica Stanly, and I am one of your new stable hands!" She had one of those fake I-am-way-to-happy smiles plastered across her oval shaped face, and I knew right away that she was one of THOSE girls. One who would do anything to get a piece of Swan International.

I was raised to plaster the same, fake smile on my face too, but right now, I was way too tired and angry to even try to be polite. I just wanted to get something unhealthy to eat and then find my bed and go to sleep.

"Nice to meet you, Jessica. Can you please take my horses stuff into the stable for me; I am really tired after the trip." I tried not to sound too demanding, but she was after all my employee. Her fake smile faltered a bit, but she gave me a smiling "of course!" and gave me the umbrella. I didn't have any baggage, I had sent everything I owned by plane yesterday, so after I had made sure Chess and Caspian was OK and getting them into the stables, I ran into my very own, fully unpacked and decorated house.

No mater how much I hated Charlie for just sending me away when I needed him the most, I had to say I was honestly glad for this amazing gift he had given me. Make my own sanctuary, my own little piece of heaven. My house wasn't big at all, it was just a white, square wooden house with black roof, two floors and a nice terrace that wrapped around the house. I locked myself in through the red front door, and just closed my eyes, smelling my new house, my new home.

The ground floor was open, with a wooden stair leading to the second floor in the middle, facing the front door. To the left of the stair was first a nice dining room and the kitchen, and through the kitchen was the door to a wonderful screened porch, so I could sit there and watch the rain fall on the green world of Forks. The kitchen was simple and contained only the things I needed, and the counter was the same kind of wood as the little, round dining table that stood in the middle of the dining room.

On the right side of the stairs was a little toilet practically placed just to the right of the entrance, and a big closet for shoes and jackets. A nicely sized and simple furnished living room with a fireplace followed. My old, comfy brown leather chair was the only piece of furniture that wasn't spanking new. To my utter joy, it didn't match the new, crispy leather chair that was placed in the middle of the room, or the elegant, black mahogany tea table in front of it. I had gone out of my way to make almost everything in my house miss match, picking the things I liked and not caring if any of them matched. On the wall that faced away from the fireplace was massive painting over my sofa.

It had been painted in the 1953 by an unknown artist, and it was the most beautiful thing I owned, except for my horses. It was a painting of a herd of wild mustangs, galloping across the Nevada desert. The painter had managed to capture the wild essence of the horses, the power and strength inside them, and their loving of total freedom. My sofa was facing the fireplace, but my chair was facing that picture.

After I had shrugged of my soaked through, red SIS hoodie and kicked of my shoes, I walked into my amazing kitchen, took a banana from the kitchen counter, I guess someone had shopped for me, then turned of all the lights and went up the stairs to the second floor, where my bedroom and the big bathroom was on the left side of the stairs, my storage room and office/library to the left side. Let's just face it, when you compete as much as I did, and train so many horses and riders, you need an office space.

After a quick look into my walk-in closet at the far end of my new bedroom, that was fully stocked with all my cloths, I shuffled over the dark wooden floor of my room, shedding the rest of my clots on the way, and dropped down on the big, round bed that was placed in the middle of the room. I turned over on my back, and even though I was really tired, I had to sit up and look around at my bedroom. It was the coolest thing ever. The floor boards were painted in al shades of dark blue and dark green, and the walls were painted like rippling water too, except the wall that faced away from the wall that separated my room from the stairs, the wall with windows. That wall was painted like a white shore, with palm trees and all that jazz. The ceiling was painted like a stare filled sky, and all the little stars were small lights that shone dimly when I clapped my hands two times, and all other light went out.

I smiled as a shrugged myself under the blue silk covers of my bed, and lying there, I felt like I was floating the middle of the sea, just like I had intended when I constructed the room in my head. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was actually in a place I could feel at home.

AN: Ok, so English is not my first language and I am dyslectic. If you think I have too many mistakes, you can correct them for me and I will post the correction.